And Then There Were None
by Gema227
Summary: “Mark?” her voice is cracked and dry as she scrambles up into his bed, taking his hand between her own. “Yes?” he replies groggily; not even sure who this intruder is yet. “Can you make me a promise?” /Mark x Maureen/


TITLE: And Then There Were None  
AUTHOR: Gema227

EMAIL: Not listing it here, but feel free to PM me when ever you like. I don't bite, really.  
CATEGORY: Angst/Romance  
PAIRING: Mark/Maureen  
SPOILERS: The entire movie  
RATING: T  
CONTENT WARNINGS: Language and character death  
SUMMARY: "Mark?" her voice is cracked and dry as she scrambles up into his bed, taking his hand between her own. "Yes?" he replies groggily; not even sure who this intruder is yet. "Can you make me a promise?"  
STATUS: Complete  
ARCHIVE: Nothing yet  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own RENT...yada yada yada…..It belongs to the wonderful Jonathon Larson…yada yada yada……Please don't sue my ass, this is just fanfiction….yada yada yada  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Squee! First RENT fic. Mainly in Movie!Verse because I haven't seen the musical yet. This piece sucks, I know, please don't shot me.

FEEBACK: Um, yes please!

* * *

_**Run**_

"I…I'm leaving you, Mark." He ran, those haunting brown eyes behind him making him run all the faster.

_**Wait**_

"Wait, Mark! Please, wait! Let me explain!" She yanked off her stilettos and sprinted after his retreating figure, but it was too late; he was gone.

_**Memory**_

He scrubbed at his hands, trying to wash every memory of her touch from his body but it was no use, no matter what he did, she would be everywhere.

_**Hope**_

"Hi, Mo." Joanne's happy greeting lifted Maureen's spirits as she walked through the door of the loft; there was still hope.

_**Mask**_

Mark took up filming again, not because he wanted to, but because the camera gave his the exact mask that he needed to see the world, but not actually have to live in it.

_**Formal**_

"Johnson." The greeting is cold and Maureen does her best to mimic his icy tone. "Cohen." If her mockery affected him, he doesn't show it. "So that's how we're going to be?" she asks. He nods; solemn, stoic. "That's how we're going to be."

_**Fever**_

"Mo, Mo. Please come to the loft. Mark's really sick. His temperature's through the roof and he's been on his knees in the bathroom puking his guts out for three hours straight! Please, Mo. Please come be our impromptu mom again. We need you. He needs you." Her stomach lurches at the sound of Roger's hysteria recorded on her answering machine and she does her best to fight back the rising waves of panic; he's not her's to worry about any longer.

_**Search**_

"So, Marky, have you found a new girlfriend yet?" She does her best to make small conversation with him when they are accidentally seated near each other at the Life Café. He turns to her, his eyes like ice, piercing through her soul. "No." She remembers his response from almost three months ago. "_That's how we're going to be." _

_**Forgotten**_

"You are so fabulous, Pookie." She kisses Joanne on the forehead playfully, almost all the traces of Mark cleansed from her mind.

_**Drink**_

"Hi, Marky." Maureen slurs, winding her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He pushes her away, trying to convince her as well as himself that he doesn't what her, doesn't want that, but deep-down, they both know that he's lying.

_**Music**_

"Oh, I've a one love, a true love, a new love-" Maureen sings as she dances cheerfully around the loft with Mimi, her wild, multi-colored skirt flaring out around her legs. So happy, so joyful. This will break him soon.

_**View**_

Sometimes, Maureen yearns for someone to need her again. Joanne will never really need her, though she can lie all she wants. Sometimes Maureen finds herself wanting Mark's hands playing with her hair, or his palm on her neck or his lips against her ear as he says the words that she craves so. "I need you, Maureen."

_**Unknown**_

She has a nightmare about April three weeks before Roger's twenty-sixth birthday. She wakes, gasping for air and sobbing her eyes dry. Joanne does not stir from her sleep and Maureen is grateful. She wouldn't have understood.

_**Journey**_

Times passes and so do they. Angel's death arrives quite unexpectedly and when they see each other at the funeral, all the pent up hate and anger between the two dissolves, if just for a moment. She races into his arms and sobs. And then there were seven.

_**Whisper**_

"Please," she gasps into his chest, starving for air as she inhales the musky, familiar scent of his coat. "Please tell me that you need me." She looks at him, her eyes desperate. "I do, Mo." He assures her. "I still do. I always will." It's enough.

_**Red**_

Mark lied to Maureen and Maureen lied to Mark. It was that simple. But they both knew that the other was lying, so it didn't exactly count.

_**Dance**_

Times after Angel's death were hard. Roger moved to Santa Fe, Mimi started using again, Collins was having the hardest of times getting over it, Maureen and Joanne started fighting even more and Mark fell into depression. They still went to the Life Café every Friday, though. As Maureen meets his eyes, she is disappointed when she sees that they have lost their shimmer, their sparkle and the two blue orbs no longer dance on the pale plains of his face.

_**Wings**_

She finds him on the balcony of their building, his head in his hands. She sits, it will be the first time they talk, really talk, since they broke up. She exhales; she's ready.

_**Silk**_

He eventually becomes used to Maureen being a constant in his life again. She's always over with Joanne, helping out, keeping them all sane. She's learnt to be responsible; he's learnt how to laugh again. They both remember how to smile.

_**Silence**_

Mimi dies without a warning, her soul flying from the loft like a bird from a branch; gone. Mark sits on the couch, his ears desperately searching for the high, giddy notes of "_Oh, I've a one love, a true love, a new love." _But he can never seem to find them. And then there were six.

_**Talk**_

It is July third when Joanne summons Maureen into the living room. "Mo," she begins calmly, "we need to talk." And then Maureen knew. She knew like she had never known before. "Goodbye." And then there were five.

_**Fall**_

Roger hated the fall, so it was only fitting that he died on August 7th, the first day of autumn. Maureen stands in the doorway, silently watching as Mark gripes the musician's hand, fighting back emotions that he knows he can never hold in forever. His first words in four days are appropriate, though Maureen can't say much else about them. "I hate the fall."

_**Gravity**_

Mark figures that the Bohemians are like gravity. Mark is the center and all they can ever do is pull away from him.

_**Promise**_

"Mark?" her voice is cracked and dry as she scrambles up into his bed, taking his hand between her own. "Yes?" he replies groggily; not even sure who this intruder is yet. "Can you make me a promise?" It's Maureen. He tells her yes. "Promise me that you'll never leave me?" Her voice is so frail and she looks so pale and weak, that his resentment melts and he squeezes her hand. "I never will. Ever." She nods; it's understood.

_**Box**_

Mark has gotten sick of the shape of coffins, so when Roger's is lowered into the ground, it's all he can do not to pull a face at the mahogany box as it descended into the earth. He stands, his head bent in mourning. Collins and Benny to his left, and Maureen to his right. And then there were four.

_**Cold**_

He wakes up after she falls out of her bed, shaking uncontrollably. "What is it, Mo? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you okay? What's wrong?" He pleads with her, grasping her by the shoulders as she trembles violently. Her teeth chatter and she's muttering something but all he can make of it is "So cold. So, so cold."

_**Body**_

It's been almost three years since all of the Bohemians met, and, in turn, it comes into a full circle. One by one, they deteriorated, until Mark and Maureen were almost all that was left. He can't say he's surprised when she presses her lips to his. He really should be pulling away, but it's been too long and it feels too good and he finds that, no matter what he does, he can't.

_**Temptation**_

It happened and that's all either of them will say about it. The next few weeks are curt, neither one of them willing to acknowledge the other first. They pay each other back though, in time, in bursts of tender moments and lazy fucks.

_**Ring**_

He gives her a ring, but she knows him better than to think that it's for real. He wears the same one and she supposes that it's just a promise ring, to back up the statement that he will never leave her. She knows this, and still she giggles anyway, because that's just who she is and nothing will ever change that.

_**Farewell**_

"I'll call." Benny promises as he throws the last bag into the Range Rover. "Take good care of her for me, Mark." They all smile and hug and wave and just like that, he's gone. And then there were three.

_**Candle**_

It's a Sunday and he's past surprised when he comes how to find her crying on the floor of the kitchen. When he asks what's wrong, she simply holds up a small, deformed candle. Mimi's candle. He understands.

_**Talent**_

Their new landlord isn't half as obnoxious as Benny, but they really don't get to know him all that well. They pay their rent, he keeps the building in shape, and it's that simple. Mark with his _Buzzline_ paycheck and Maureen with whatever the hell she can pick up from various theaters around New York. It's enough, even when it isn't.

_**Lock**_

Collins gets accepted back into MIT around the seventeenth of April, all the life of the loft going with him. Mark gets a lock on the loft door, since they hardly ever use it anyway and it constantly reminds them both of the life they left behind for a future that isn't confirmed. And then there were two.

_**Laugh**_

On the fifth of May, Maureen laughs. It surprises her, because she hasn't done it in such a long time. Than it surprises her that it surprises her, and she's not so sure that she wants that.

_**Highway**_

Mark asked Maureen if she wanted to move out of New York. "Hell, no, boy." She responded. New York was her home. If she didn't fit in here, than where did she fit?

_**World**_

Mark really hopes that there's more to the world than New York City. He really hopes that there's a place where he can belong, but Scarsdale didn't work out and New York was defiantly going down the tube. He was like a rogue puzzle piece, trying to fit himself into spaces that he just wasn't meant to fit in.

_**Sacred**_

Mark's parents call sometime in June, reminding Mark about Rachel's bat mitzvah. The fact that he's never even laid eyes on his only niece does nothing to sway them and he can't bring himself to tell them that he doesn't have enough money to get back home. If he did, than he would be pitied and if it came down to being disliked and being pitied, he'd much rather take the former.

_**Strength**_

The air is getting to Maureen's lungs. Sometimes she coughs so hard that blood comes out. No money for the doctor's bills and all he can do is watch helplessly, trying not to cry as he sees the red liquid dribble between her fingers. She looks to him, her eyes bloodshot. "I'm sorry, Mark."

_**Hero**_

"Marky?" she whispers, pressing herself against him to fight the growing chill of the summer air. "Yes, Maureen?" he asks, stroking her hair. "You're my hero." He says nothing, but he does pull her closer.

_**Fire**_

Autumn is the worst for them. They buy a small amount of sorry excuses for flowers from a near by street vendor and lay on of the wilted daisies at each grave, wondering silently who will be the next to join them.

_**Dream**_

Mark doesn't dream of movies and money anymore. He just dreams of getting out of this hell that he's gotten into. He dreams of climbing out, bringing Maureen with him, so that they can finally be together, without the annoying element of the ever-present fear getting in the way.

_**Ice**_

Fall comes and goes, winter swirling in to take its place. It's been four years. They are the only survivors and it kills them. The ice particles rain down on East Village, the hail bouncing of bicycles and stop signs. It burns against his skin, but he dare not say anything, for fear of being weak.

_**Midnight**_

It's almost Christmas Eve and Mark wonders if this will be the year that he doesn't break down in tears when they present their little gifts to each other. He wonders if this is the dreaded year when there won't be any presents at all.

_**Overwhelmed**_

She watches him sleep, silent and undisturbed. She can see his ribs through his skin. Her fingers trace the lines of bone and she panics, he might be sick because no one is that thin naturally, but then he shifts and the sinewy, hidden strings of muscle shimmer under her fingertips and she smiles. Like everything else, he did have some hidden strength.

_**Forever**_

"Forever?" she asks her eyes wide and gleeful. "Forever." He confirms. He has no money for a diamond, but apparently she doesn't need one to be able to start jumping up and down, squealing. Suddenly, his face is cupped in her hands and she's kissing him. "Thank you so much, Mark. For staying by me. For not abandoning me." It's the least he can do.

_**Lies**_

There are no lies anymore. She'll walk through the door and announce that she's been with another man. Mark will sighed, roll his eyes, say something about marriage counseling and tell her to try not to do it again. She promises that she'll try, and she does, but sometimes, trying just isn't enough. Then she'll ask him if he ate something today, like she told him to. He's honest- no, he wasn't hungry, he's not sick, and he's not going anorexic. There are no lies.

_**Breath**_

The revelation comes in spring, in March. He comes home from filming and Maureen races into his arms, screaming and crying hystericaly. He's never seen her like this before. "Mark, we're alone!" she shrieks, her entire body racking with sobs. 'We don't have anyone else!" He wonders when she realized this, as he has known it all along. He takes her into his arms, and holds her close.

_**Cover**_

"Bus 227 is departing from New York City, New York to Santa Fe, New Mexico." They hold each other as they board the bus, crying softly. They sit and as the bus engine leaps to life, they look out the window on a present that was never the best and a future that can't be any worse than what they're leaving behind.

_**Eclipse**_

And then there were none.


End file.
